


Snapshots of Better Days

by aerith_in_hyrule



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Closeted Character, Depression, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Prompto Argentum, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Long Shot, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerith_in_hyrule/pseuds/aerith_in_hyrule
Summary: A closeted Prompto is struggling to come to terms with his sexuality as well as his feelings for Noctis, his best-friend and the only person who gives him a sense of purpose.Things take a bad turn when an experiment leads to a series of events which go horribly wrong.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	Snapshots of Better Days

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out this oneshot :)
> 
> This is my first FFXV fic and I hope it's enjoyable.
> 
> This story contains a considerable amount of explicit content which some readers may find triggering so please check out the tags and stay safe ♡

It didn’t take much to make Prompto happy. He would spend hours admiring the effortless beauty of his best-friend’s face if he only could but he knew that just a second too long and his face would flush a crimson red; his groin would begin to ache and the thoughts would make his heart race.

He never asked for this – he didn’t want any of this. His sexuality he considered a curse, a fact unspoken, hidden behind heaps of information stored within the drawers of his brain. Safe and sound, no one asked no one knew. That’s the way he liked it and that’s the way it would stay.

It ached in ways he could not fathom. The pain would hit with another new crush, another new girlfriend, like a scab being picked off before the flesh got a chance to heal. A throbbing in his chest every time he caught glimpse of him with another – even though he was never truly Prompto’s to begin with.

Nights in his room, sleepovers, playing King’s Knight. Knees rubbing against each other and the pungent scent of his cologne infiltrating Prompto’s nostrils. He’d always excuse himself to the bathroom – caressing his shame. Falling asleep in the same bed as him at the end of the night, tracing circles into his skin after Prompto was certain that he was asleep. Oh, how he craved to run his own fingers through the boy’s hair, to caress the soft skin of his cheek and taste his soft plump lips.

Matters escalated abruptly and, much to Prompto’s disdain, they brought more pain than pleasure.

“Prom, can I ask you something?” his tone sustained a note of hesitance yet his facial expression remained constant – it agitated Prompto. “Yeah, anything Noct.”

“I’ve never kissed a guy before and I kinda wanna find out how it feels.”

Their first kiss was sloppy. They went back to Prompto’s house that day to partake in the experiment. Prompto was nothing more than a scientific subject to Noctis’s experiment – there was no room for doubt in Prompto’s mind about that.

It was awkward. They sat cross legged facing each other on Prompto’s bed. A cushion covering Prompto’s groin and both hands clutching it intently, adrenaline flowed to his nether region like wildfire – his eyes rested on Noctis’s legs knowing damn well that looking at his face would make his filthy secret pour out onto the two-inch gap between them on the bed.

The air felt clammy. A heaviness in Prompto’s throat restricted his breathing. Without touching him, Noctis moved closer until Prompto could feel the warmth of his breath on his own lips. He had to keep his cool – he couldn’t let himself enjoy this. Every muscle in his body felt like it could go rampant if he lost the slightest ounce of control, he wanted to touch Noctis, pull him into that kiss and do things to him that he had only dreamt of all these years.

He felt like his head was a hot air balloon ready to burst. Noctis’s lips were just like he had imagined: soft, plump and delicious. It took a few seconds before Noctis’s tongue traced the exterior of Prompto’s lips demanding entry into his mouth. His saliva was honey and his breath sugar – Prompto couldn’t get enough. With his groin throbbing in agony beneath the cushion – he had lost control of his hand as it capped the side of Noctis’s head. Much to Prompto’s astonishment, Noctis deepened the kiss for the slightest moment before pulling away but that, alongside the friction caused by the cushion, was enough to make Prompto’s groin burst.

They didn’t talk about the kiss at all that night, it was as if it had never happened. That was the way Noctis wanted it – Prompto thought. He cried whilst cleaning himself up in the bathroom.

Things were nearly normal the days following the incident but Prompto couldn’t tame his thoughts as they distracted him from everything going on that week. He hadn’t submitted homework for three consecutive days and his class contribution had dwindled. Noctis didn’t care though, he hadn’t even noticed.

The second incident was sudden, spontaneous and shameful. They were in the locker rooms, getting cleaned up after a few rounds of tennis. Standard changing room etiquette applied: don’t stare, don’t care. Prompto couldn’t hold himself back though, especially not when Noctis was the only other person in that room. He stole quick glances at Noctis’s body, his muscular form and his wet hair spilling water droplets down his back and down to the towel sitting just slightly above his hips.

Prompto’s stomach dropped and he felt every hair follicle on his body rise upwards into a shiver when Noctis caught him stealing one of those glances. He had committed a crime and he was going to get punished for it.

The sound of wet feet shuffling towards him on the tiled floor made his breathing spin further out of control as he stared at his feet unblinking. He turned around when Noctis grabbed his wrist and his eyes were met with Noctis’s own – it didn’t take long before their lips connected and his eyes closed as he rejoiced in the connection. Not missing a single beat, like clockwork, Noctis’s tongue slid right into Prompto’s mouth and their kiss intensified. They made out long enough for Prompto’s body to recover from the trauma of being caught as he desperately searched for any negative memory he could find to prevent his body from losing its stiffness. The warmth radiating from Noctis’s firm grip on his wrist did not aid in his struggle to remain composed and shortly he could feel his member erect beneath his towel.

Tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill as he knew that he could not hide his shameful erection from Noctis standing barely far enough for it to not touch him. It was too late to save himself as Noctis’s expression turned to that of disgust and hatred upon looking down at the raised towel in front of him.

“You disgust me, you’re a filthy faggot,” the words stung as Prompto watched Noctis back away before picking up his bag and departing further into the room. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry now, not if Noctis could hear.

What was he thinking? Did he really think that he could get away with falling in love with Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum? He must have been delusional to even think that Noctis wanted to be his friend; perhaps their friendship was just an act. Perhaps if Prompto never agreed to be Noctis’s experiment none of this would have happened, maybe Prompto could have lusted over Noctis in silence. What the hell was he thinking?

The dread of seeing Noctis at school after the weekend was eating Prompto away – things could never be the same. Noctis was right, Prompto was disgusting and he was filthy. He deserved to be hated, he deserved every ounce of hatred that Noctis could throw at him – he’d take it all. Prompto’s thoughts of death and self-hatred flooded his system that weekend like a wave, destroying everything in its way, washing away all the happiness he’d ever felt.

Why couldn’t he be normal? Why couldn’t he be pretty and popular? Why couldn’t he be straight? His tears formed continuous streams down his cheeks and he lay in bed restless all weekend – there was no one to notice.

When Monday finally came around, it was as if the incident never happened; just like the previous time. Noctis never brought it up and the rest of the week carried on as it normally would, there was nothing to discuss and nothing had ever happened.

As the week came to an end, Prompto’s healing scab has been ripped off with a single pull and blood has been left pouring out. “I’m making things official with Luna, she’s great, isn’t she?” Noctis asked.

Prompto shrugged and sighed, “that’s great Noct. She’s great for you.” A lie, that’s all it takes to make it hurt less. Nothing ever happened.

Over the next few weeks Prompto had been seeing less and less of Noctis and if he did catch a glimpse of him – he’d be with Luna, kissing her in the school corridors or playing with her hair. He’d walk the school halls proudly with her by his side, holding her hand, showing her off like a prized possession.

Hair a perfect pearl blonde, her snow-white school shirt complimented the porcelain of her skin and the powder pink of her lips. Lunafreya was the embodiment of everything that Prompto had wanted to be. Popular, pretty; straight. Graced by goddess-like beauty and royal lineage – she was _beautiful_ and Noctis would have been a fool to let her pass him by.

Prompto was a fool to let himself fall in love with Noctis, he knew from the moment that crush made itself apparent that it was never meant to be yet he did nothing to stop himself. He had made a friend, a popular friend who didn’t care that he came from a penniless house at the edges of Insomnia. He had made a friend who he thought appreciated him for who he really was, perhaps all he was to Noctis now was a filthy faggot. He’d probably tell all his other friends about it and how he had tricked Prompto into revealing his secret.

The loneliness was tearing him apart on the inside. There was no one waiting for him at home, there was no one looking forward to seeing him and no one to care about what he did or didn’t do. To the naked eye he was an average teenager with average hobbies and average aspirations. There was nothing unique about him and there certainly wasn’t anything worth noticing about him. His averageness granted him an invisibility cloak, allowing him to blend in with crowds wherever he went and no one would ever point him out as different from a large group of people. Someone like him had no right to befriend someone like Noctis – a complete contrast of himself and everything that he wanted to be.

That October was cold, damp and depressing. He was turning seventeen yet his mind was plagued by thoughts so dark it startled him. Tossing and turning, shifting between being asleep, being awake and that state of paralysis in which he wasn’t quite asleep but not quite awake either.

He had spent most of his birthdays in the past all by himself so this wasn’t something unfamiliar or particularly upsetting in itself. As a matter of fact, it was just like any other day of the year, the only difference being that his birthday was the day to acknowledge the fact that he had lived for another three hundred and sixty-five days. How many more three hundred and sixty-five days would he live through, though? He wondered.

Prompto wasn’t depressed. At least, he didn’t like thinking that he was, anyway. His explanation for the seemingly infinite melancholy which rotted away at his core was loneliness – he was very much alone and he wasn’t going to deny the toll that it had taken on his mental health over the years.

His parents didn’t want him – his adopted parents wanted him even less. They didn’t exactly _adopt_ him; they didn’t ask for him. Mr and Mrs Argentum were both government officials and they didn’t have much of a choice when the soldiers came knocking on their door all those years ago. Taking Prompto in paid well and leaving him to his own devices was basically free money. Prompto had never known love, not until it struck him as hard as it did with Noctis, but this love was unrequited and therefore, he had never known love after all.

As the afternoon was coming to an end, there was an unexpected knock on the front door which startled Prompto and gave him a reasonable excuse to finally get out of bed. He smelled bad, he looked bad and the state in which he was in was surely enough to scare away any salespersons, he thought.

He made his way slowly through the house to the front door, his feet shuffling lazily through the carpeted floors. His fingers trembled as he attempted to turn the knob, not out of fear, but rather out of his bed-day induced muscle spasms.

“Happy Birthday, Prom,” Noctis gave a sheepish smile as he handed Prompto a medium sized, navy blue paper wrapped box with a ribbon neatly tied around it. His eyes struggled to adjust to the dimming sunset and the haze had prompted a delayed response from him. “Uh, thanks.”

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds too long before Prompto moved aside and gestured for Noctis to come into the house. He didn’t care that the windows hadn’t been opened in days and that it probably reeked of stale air and body odour, he couldn’t give a damn that he looked like he hadn’t washed in a week and hell, maybe he hadn’t.

“Are you okay?” he did sound relatively concerned but apparently not concerned enough to have checked on him before today, Prompto thought.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied with possibly the most unconvincing _‘I’m fine’_ smile he could put on at that moment. “Things have just been a bit all over the place y’know.”

“I haven’t seen you around at school for a few days now, I thought maybe you were unwell or something.” Prompto wasn’t convinced that Noctis was being sincere, he never bothered checking, but why would he? _You are nothing to him,_ he thought.

“I’ve just been a bit under the weather, you’re right.” Did mental health count as _under the weather?_ Possibly. “How’s Luna, anyway?”. He wished he hadn’t asked; he wasn’t quite sure why he asked anyway. Perhaps, maybe perhaps he was still feeling jealous and bitter about it.

“She’s great, things are moving quite slowly, though,” did Prompto hear a hint of disappointment in Noctis’s voice, or did he just wish that he did?

The awkward pauses and silences between their exchanges were too much, Prompto wasn’t aware that awkwardness could be felt physically until he felt like he did not know what to do with his body to make it go away.

The silence had been broken as Noctis had released an uncomfortable chuckle, “all that practice in kissing will surely have paid off, eh?”. Prompto felt as if his organs had spilled out onto the floor and his ankles were being pulled down by weights – that hurt more than he had expected but Noctis seemed to have picked up on his discomfort. “I also wanted to, uh, say sorry,” he scratched his head and gave Prompto a soft smile. “I should have never said that, I realised it was wrong after I said it.”

“You said what was on your mind, I can’t really blame you for that.” Prompto couldn’t hold back and seemingly, nor could his tears. He hated himself for being a cry-baby, all he ever did was cry when he got hurt – he was weak.

“No, Prom. I really don’t think these things about you,” Noctis began sounding more sincere, but he also noticed Prompto’s tears which prompted him to close the space between them and took him into his arms. It felt heavenly, being in Noctis’s embrace, he felt like nothing could hurt him and that perhaps things weren’t as bad as he made them out to be. But then he reminded himself of the irony which was Noctis making him feel that way yet he was the one capable of hurting him the most. The irony of that stung him, Noctis was a rose and Prompto kept getting entangled in the thorns.

This silence was comfortable. He could stay like this for a long while but he knew that he couldn’t. “I’m sorry that I’m such a state, I smell awful.” A small smile appeared on his face and Noctis chuckled.

Since it was Prompto’s birthday, Noctis insisted on staying and helping him tidy up so they could play some King’s Knight and possibly order pizza. Noctis tried to convince Prompto to allow his personal assistant, Ignis, to help them clean up but that was too much for Prompto – Noctis didn’t put up a fight about it either.

It was peculiar, Noctis’s ability to simply show up and completely alter Prompto’s mood within the space of a few hours. The night turned out to be great and Prompto admitted that he was, in fact, very happy on his seventeenth birthday – until he wasn’t.

“I am the pro of King’s Knight, the undefeatable Prompto Argentum,” he announced proudly as he had beaten Noctis for the fourth time that night. They spent the night on the living room couch playing their favourite game. It was perfect. It was everything Prompto could have hoped for but didn’t.

“That you are,” Noctis gave him a sincere smile as he moved closer and placed his hand on Prompto’s thigh – leaning in and placing his lips on the blonde’s. The sudden action did not register with Prompto immediately and his body stiffened beneath Noctis’s touch. Noctis’s lips were rough and his touch wasn’t sensual – this was wrong and Prompto didn’t like it. Noctis’s tongue began tracing the outline of Prompto’s lips but he wasn’t granting Noctis entrance.

“Don’t.” Prompto exhaled a sigh of relief as Noctis let go of his thigh and their lips disconnected, he couldn’t look Noctis in the eyes, not now. None of this was right but it didn’t make any sense to him, he should have enjoyed that – it should have felt good, given him that fuzzy feeling in the pits of his stomach, aroused him. But it didn’t.

“I thought you enjoyed that, you did last time,” Noctis sounded hurt, his speech was hurried and it didn’t contain the warmth which Prompto was so used to and fell in love with.

“There’s no feeling behind your actions, Noct. It’s not right.”

“We’re friends, I want to make you happy on your birthday. Friends do these things; it doesn’t mean anything.” Noctis gave him a reassuring smile. “There doesn’t have to be any feeling to have fun.”

Prompto didn’t stop Noctis from making out with him this time, he just let it happen. He took Noctis’s words into consideration and he made out with his best friend. It hurt, knowing how badly he had lusted over Noctis and now that he had the opportunity to be selfish and satisfy his desires, he couldn’t help but feel like everything was wrong. All the puzzle pieces had been scattered in an untidy mess. Part of him felt like Noctis was the one using _him_ to satisfy his own wicked perversions.

_Fuck it._ Prompto discarded all the thoughts wreaking havoc in his mind, yelling at him, telling him that all of this was wrong, that he was being used. The locker room scene from a few weeks ago playing in his mind over and over like a broken record. _You disgust me, you’re a filthy faggot._ The thought itself made him shudder beneath Noctis but instead of pushing him away he wrapped his arms around his frame and pulled him deeper into the kiss. Much to Prompto’s surprise – Noctis did not flinch, he did not pull away, instead, his hands began racing up and down Prompto’s sides. A moan escaped Prompto’s lips but he felt no shame, he felt no remorse, this was his opportunity to make his dreams come true and he was damn well going to take it.

Prompto was seventeen years old that day and he felt used, he felt filthy, but he was happy. He knew deep down that he was too broken to care that he was being used, he was too far gone to care that he was filthy and he was disgusting and for the first time in his life he acknowledged that he was gay and that he hated Noctis but damn did he know how to make Prompto feel good.

Prompto’s continuously escaping moans did not deter Noctis like he thought they would – Noctis did not pull away and call Prompto a faggot like he thought he would. It didn’t take long before Prompto felt an irresistible impulse to take the raven-haired boy’s shirt off and that is exactly what he did – prompting the boy to do the same to him. _Is this really happening?_ Continuously repeating over and over in his head.

The smouldering heat and drenching sweat was a sign of the time going by as their hands were all over each other and at the same time made Prompto very aware of his erection so intense, the smallest friction would probably make him ejaculate. They were too far into this for Prompto not to take his chance at feeling Noctis in places he never thought possible. Their bare chests touching, Prompto could not help but notice that Noctis ensured there was a safe distance between their crotches as he leaned over Prompto, their lips maintained in a passionate kiss.

Prompto took his chance and gently pulled Noctis closer by his hips. He was hit by bewilderment as he could feel his best-friend’s erection touching his own through the fabrics of their denim black jeans – the last thing he was expecting but it felt too good for him to protest. A moan escaped Noctis’s lips as he began rubbing his groin against Prompto’s. He could feel complete euphoria wash over his body from head to toe as he felt the best orgasm of his life fast approaching. So, with that, they continued, moaning into each other’s mouths – crotches rubbing against one another. Sweat mingling and heart’s racing, Prompto couldn’t hold it any longer, he let go. A sigh of relief had fled Prompto’s lips as Noctis’s own disconnected. Prompto’s eyes raced directly to the other boy’s crotch, noticing a wet stain just like his own, but Noctis looked displeased. Perhaps, he made a very sudden realisation of what had happened as soon as it was over, he was reminded of how filthy and disgusting Prompto was, there was no other explanation for it according to him.

Prompto wanted to ask him what was wrong, he wanted to ask if everything was okay, but all that came out were gasps for breath as he had struggled to cool down his system through the blazing heat encapsulating the house. _I should have opened the windows_. Noctis pulled his shirt back on and was gone before Prompto even got the opportunity to recover from what had just happened between them. He was gone, gone, gone.

His birthday gift remained unopened beside the front door for several days before he built up the courage to pick it up again. There was no word from Noctis and as usual, there were no phone calls from school enquiring about his absence – it was as if no one even noticed that he was gone.

The box felt very artificial beneath Prompto’s fingertips and the ribbon even more so, it didn’t weigh very much and he continued looking for any detail to give away what the inside would hold because he simply could not force himself to open his own birthday present. Prompto was very much aware of how pathetic he was, he was also very much aware of the fact that _normal_ people wouldn’t behave this way when confronted with a gift to commemorate their birthday – but he wasn’t normal.

The ribbon came undone with a pull of its loose end and the lid came off smoothly to reveal a tiny box within. _Boxes upon Boxes – boxes in boxes?_ He entertained himself with the ridiculousness of Noctis’s over-boxing. It shouldn’t have made him smile and it certainly should not have entertained him to think about Noctis; not after what had happened. But Prompto was a fool and perhaps these thoughts were the only source of happiness that made his day that tiny bit less miserable.

The smaller box was a charming sugar pine with delicate walnut edges – the perfect-smooth finish felt tender beneath Prompto’s fingertip. He took his time tracing the exterior of the box and admiring the edges before working up the courage to tilt it open and find an abrupt lump in his throat upon seeing that the contents of the box were photos and memories which Noctis had collected with Prompto over the years.

The box must have been filled to the brim with Polaroids and photo-booth slips of the two boys being goofy and doing things that best friends would. Snapshots of the good times which they shared – Prompto snuggling a chocobo the day they visited a chocobo-farm just outside of Altissia. His memory of that day was crystal-clear, Noctis couldn’t stop laughing about how Prompto’s hair fit so perfectly with golden chocobo feathers and that made him warm and fuzzy inside – knowing that there was something about him which Noctis found cute.

For all it warmed Prompto’s heart, it pained for him to be receiving this as a gift – it didn’t feel right. It felt almost as if this was a desperate attempt to rid of these memories, almost like evidence, without losing them forever. Concert stubs, holiday postcards; each Polaroid tied with a picture-perfect memory of the place and circumstance in which it was taken.

Flicking through the seemingly infinite pile of polaroid photos which the boys have taken together, Prompto’s eyes rested on one particular shot which encapsulated the whole of Noctis’s beauty in the sunlight – his elbows deep in Galdin Quay’s sand, smirking at the camera. His handsome porcelain skin illuminated by the sun’s rays complimented the pale sands which threatened to swallow him whole in the summer breeze that day. What made Prompto’s stomach churn was the thought that this was the day in which he had made the realisation that Noctis was beautiful and he might have been very much head over heels for him.

Photography – one of the many passion’s which Prompto had given up. It brought him joy as much as it had brought him shame. He must have taken hundreds of photos of Noctis, encapsulating his beauty under different conditions and lighting, it was entirely innocent and harmless until he found himself looking at them obsessively – carrying them to school and falling asleep with them. Like a teenage girl, he was lovestruck and totally obsessed with his crush – he knew that he had to let go, things were going too far.

Perhaps things have gone too far, further than he had ever expected them to – he was in too deep and he couldn’t resurface, there was no turning point and this wagon was going to derail if he didn’t take control. Several days have gone past since the last time Prompto had interacted with anyone, since the incident on the couch. He had lost track of time but that didn’t really matter to him. Noctis came back – they were best friends and they were doing things best friends would.

Sitting on his living room couch playing King’s Knight with Noctis, a safe distance, knees not touching. His hair a dishevelled mess, his body unwashed and his mind under control. Nothing had ever happened between them and they were just two friends playing King’s Knight on a Friday night.

“Why the memory box?” he enquired.

“I thought it’d make you happy on your birthday,” the charcoal haired boy replied, his gaze not leaving the screen whilst playing the game intently. There were things more important than Prompto and somehow, Prompto believed that everything was more important than him. He was a fool all along to believe that he meant anything to Noctis; he wore his pink heart glasses for a while too long and he had lost himself somewhere along the way. Love was a treacherous path and he had failed to walk it.

“I loved you, Noct.” He muttered. There was no feeling behind it, almost as if he had turned the switch off and ceased feeling. It felt good – liberating.

There was no response coming from the boy sitting beside him. Nothing but the notification from the game announcing that it was currently paused. Noctis sighed as his eyes dropped to the floor and the silence continued – Prompto didn’t have anything else to say, he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted a response either.

Letting the cat out of the bag didn’t feel as satisfying as he thought it’d be, perhaps it was because he had lost himself, he had lost his ability to feel, the one thing that made him human. The silence felt like it had gone on for hours but it didn’t tear him apart – not this time.

“I know.” The response was short and snappy. Prompt did not know what to expect in his response – though, Noctis’s acknowledgement of his deflated compassion had exceeded any possible guess. Noctis pushed the controller away from his lap and stood up. “Come here,” he murmured “let’s hug this one out.”

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder – almost at the same height as one another – Noctis an inch or two taller than Prompto. He opened up his arms and embraced Prompto: laying his head softly atop of his. Hastily through his teeth he whispered “I know it aches inside of you.”

Moments passed with Prompto remaining in his arms. He felt comfort at first as his lonesome needs had been fulfilled. It was Noctis as he knew him: both as a person and an idea. His strength, as Prompto thought, was the warm undercurrent of Noctis’s gloomy exterior: always comforting, always domineering. Too much of Noctis and he’ll never get over what he can’t have. It was time to pull away.

“Noct,” Prompto tried to unfurl from his hold “I think we should get back to King’s Knight.” Noctis refused to budge: retaining his firm hug without any vocal response. Noctis was in a trance – somewhat oblivious to his surroundings whilst in full control over Prompto. He was looking into the distance: into his own thoughts, it seemed.

Prompto responded with a somewhat forceful attempt to escape from Noctis’s grapple by trying to lift the arms from over his head. This, like the last attempt, was to no avail. He refused to budge in his almost unconscious state. Then, as instantaneous as a switch being hit, his conscious reassumed his body. Looking down – Noctis’s eyes began to draw red. All the love that Prompto had within him turned to anxiety and dread.

Noctis’s familiar grip turned quickly into an unwelcome confinement. He held Prompto to his chest and started to dig his nails into his back. His breath quickened, sharp and hostile, as his mouth drew closer to his prisoner’s ear. “Don’t struggle.”

All of Prompto’s warmth funnelled out of his body in a rain of cold sweat. For all his intentions of escaping Noctis’s embrace prior: they became evermore incessant with every pacing heartbeat. Then, Noctis let go. Prompto violently shook whilst remaining static. He has found his greatest fear in what he wished for the most. Noctis stared into his eyes without compassion: and, suddenly, lifted his hands and pressed both around his neck.

He pushed forward as Prompto walked backwards. “Please don’t.” He expressed in restricted breaths “Please please please.” But he did not listen: Noctis only stared straight into his eyes with deadly intention before Prompto could not move backwards any longer. Stuck up against the wall – Noctis spoke, in a nonchalant manner completely removed from the moment, “Forgive me, Prom.”

With his left hand on Prompto’s neck: the right hand firmly on Prompto’s collar. With an unassuming force: he rips his pyjama shirt all the way down. His torso is left exposed to the cruelty of Noctis’ hand. Prompto kept on trying to reason with the frenzied Noctis “Please. I’m begging you.” Noctis ran his hand up and down the blonde’s torso. “You like that – don’t you, faggot?” Tears whelmed from under Prompt’s eyes as the pain was unbearable. He tried pushing back at him with little result. Noctis continued as he pleased.

“Noctis!” as Prompto made vain attempts to reason with him “this isn’t you. Noctis, this isn’t you!” There was a dead air between them for a second. Noctis placed his hand against Prompto’s chest and peered into his eyes. “Stop your pleading, no one can hear.”

Then, Noctis flipped Prompto around. He tore down both his shorts and boxers exposing his bare butt. Noctis unconcealed his throbbing erection and pressed himself onto Prompto. “Don’t flinch.” Prompto began to feel immense amounts of pain in his asshole as Noctis began to furiously thrust into him.

Trickles of blood ran down his penis as Prompto tried to hush his own screams. It was not worth making it worse than it already was, Prompto thought, so he tried to disassociate. The pain travelled through his entire body and he winced with each and every thrust that he was forced to endure. His mind transported him somewhere else, somewhere far away from where his body physically was. He was somewhere so far away, laying down on the grass, observing the clouds hurrying along the azure sky. Everything was calm, silent, the warm breeze dishevelling his hair ever so softly.

He wished he could stay there forever, but the pain coursing through his body kept struggling to bring him back to reality. He felt Noctis’s hand grip onto his hair, pulling it back towards his own body as his other hand scratched patterns into his back, he was sure it was bleeding. The carpeted floor felt rough beneath his knees as he felt the carpet burns intensifying.

Prompto’s breathing remained laboured as his tear-soaked cheeks began to dry – he cried out all the tears which his body could produce it seemed. He was a flower, wilting, something inside of him had died despite having already died a little in the past. There was no pain left for him to feel and there were no happy thoughts for him to hold onto. He was laying on the grass in Duscae watching the clouds haste across the sky.

The thrusting came to an abrupt halt as Prompto felt a warm substance fill his cavity – Noctis relieved himself inside of him. Prompto didn’t feel any disgust, he felt no shame, there was nothing left for him to feel. Noctis pulled himself out of him, the emptiness had left him feeling broken, used, numb. He crumbled to the floor, there was no life left inside of him.

It was a bit ironic, he thought. He spent almost half of his life trying to impress someone whom he simply could not have. Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir to the throne of Lucis, with his raven black hair and snow-white skin. Noctis with his exclusively _noir_ wardrobe and stylish hair. The boy which all the girls wanted to fuck and all the guys wanted to be. Noctis, the boy who took the most valuable thing which Prompto had to offer and destroyed it. The boy who wrapped his hands around Prompto’s neck and used him. Noctis, who had raped him on his living room floor, leaving him destroyed, even less of a man that he was to begin with.

Prompto laid there on the floor where Noctis had left him, he had lost track of time yet again. For all he knew he could’ve been laying there for days – watching the breaking dawn through the slit in the heavy blinds covering the windows – watching the sun set through that same slit at the end of that same day before everything went black and he must have passed out.

There were no phone calls and there was no one knocking on the door, no one would ever know what had happened to him and there was no one who would come out to check on him. Prompto was alone and there was no one he could go to for comfort. Sure, he could have phoned his adopted parents but what would he have told them? That he was gay and that he was filthy and he had let himself get raped by his best friend? He didn’t think that was an entirely great idea, instead, he crawled his way to his bedroom.

His body ached with every movement which he made, he wanted to scream, he wanted so desperately to scream as loud as he could so that maybe, just maybe one of the neighbours would hear and they’d phone someone; but he didn’t.

Everything was very abruptly becoming too much for Prompto. The pain in his body that made him wince with every movement, the pain in his chest which hurt with every sob which escaped his lungs and the trauma in his mind which kept replaying the worst moment of his life to torture him – to finish him off. There were no tears left for him to cry, he decided that he would write a letter, get his thoughts off of his chest and tear them up – a coping mechanism which he had developed over the years to deal with his issues and it worked for him. Though, perhaps, this issue was too big in itself to write down and tear up, out of mind for good. Perhaps this was something that wouldn’t just go away. Maybe he was right.

Prompto had always loved guns, he loved the way in which they fired with the pull of the trigger. He often compared them to cameras through the ways in which they could capture a moment with a push of the trigger and a *click*. Prompto had only ever _captured_ a moment with a gun once – this was in Duscae and he had shot down an innocent Garulet. He wasn’t proud of what he had done but one thing which he did find was that he was a great shot. He had stolen the gun from a guard when staying at the Citadel with Noctis. There was no ill intention behind it – he had simply wanted to curb his craving of shooting a gun, nothing less, nothing more.

This time, however, he wasn’t so sure of whether or not he had ill intentions behind gripping that gun which he had kept in his bedside table all these months. He removed it gently from its resting place in the false-bottom of the drawer and admired the designs which covered the silver as he spun it round in his hand. The gun, a perfect silver complimenting the charcoal handle, felt heavy in his hand as he began feeling uneasy with his fingers wrapped around it. He knew exactly why he had reached for it and he knew that there was nothing keeping him from ending it all.

Fumbling with the trigger, Prompto searched through the drawers of his mind to find something, anything, which could possibly have changed his mind. There was nothing. Prompto knew that it was in vain, his whole life seemed to have been based on lies and false hope, there was no light at the end of his tunnel and all the attempts which he had made to turn his existence around had failed. He was a failure. He pondered on how long it would take for someone to realise that he was gone; how long it would have taken for his body to be discovered and whether or not it would have rotted away by that point.

Prompto’s mind had taken him to places so dark he wasn’t quite sure who he was, he never thought that it’d come to that. He never thought that Noctis would have been the one to seal that deal, the boy who was supposed to make things better. He did have to admit that Noctis did, in fact, make him happy for so many years – he had lived happily in his closet, admiring the boy from a distance and finding purpose in being there for him. It was amusing, Prompto thought, the ways in which all the events which took place in his life aligned so perfectly for this moment to happen. A gun in his hand, a letter to no-one-in-particular by his side and his naked body for someone to find.

“Okay, we ready? Three, two, one…” _click_ Noctis was the one to take the shot whilst they were attempting to capture the Chocobo farm in the background of their photo. The blazing sun was taking a toll on the both of them that day but that did not stop them from having a good time. Especially Prompto, whose love for chocobos exceeded that of anything else in his life.

“Can’t wait for it to develop, it’s going to look phenomenal,” Prompto chuckled, shaking the polaroid as he made his way to one of the chocobos. The chocobo which he had approached seemed to have taken a liking to the freckled blonde as it nudged its beak on the side of Prompto’s head and the boy began ruffling its feathers.

A distant _click_ could be heard, a shot being taken by Prompto’s polaroid and it had taken him by surprise. “Hey, I so totally wasn’t ready for that one!”.

“Shut up, you look adorable,” Noctis smirked as Prompto had began approaching him to demand the developing photo. “Besides, it’s hilarious how much your hair looks like a nest of chocobo feathers.”

“Har, har, so funny – now let me see the photo!” Prompto tackled Noctis for the photo which the taller boy held firmly in his hand, arm outstretched, teasing him until they both stopped to realise that they were, in fact, very close and the air between them was getting very warm. Neither of them felt awkward, everything felt as if it was supposed to be but at the same time, a tugging sensation at the back of Prompto’s mind reminded him that this was wrong. This had prompted him to back away and permit Noctis to hand him over the photo – which had allowed them to continue as if nothing had happened. “I don’t look too bad in that, actually,” he beamed.

“You never look bad, Prom.”

A memory he held on to so dearly for three whole years, he never expected it to be the one which mattered to him the most just moments before he took his own life. It was the happiest memory he could find and the one which had meant the most to him. He was happy, back then, he didn’t have to put on a fake smile to get through the day and Noctis genuinely cared about him – they were best friends and there was nothing that could have torn them apart.

It was that memory, that particular day outside of Altissia, that nearly stopped him from killing himself. Prompto knew better than let that stop him and he wondered, what was the moment which had ruined everything? He didn’t have to search far before his mind rested on that single conversation which took place between him and Noctis at the start of the semester:

“Prom, can I ask you something?”

Prompto was anticipating a question related to school, homework, girls or even sports. He was anticipating something ordinary to get on with his ordinary day. “Yeah, anything Noct.”

“I’ve never kissed a guy before and I kinda wanna find out how it feels.”

It took Prompto way too long to acknowledge that this moment had triggered a butterfly effect which sent ripples so far down the stream of events which followed that it had completely destroyed what Prompto and Noctis had shared. If only Noctis hadn’t asked that, or perhaps if only Prompto had said no.

Nevertheless, it was too late for Prompto to contemplate further, he would chicken out and live to fight another day which wasn’t something he desired. He made peace with the fact that he was going to die fourteen days after his seventeenth birthday and there would be no celebration to mark yet another survival of three hundred and sixty-five days. He was going to die naked on his bedroom floor with a letter beside him by shooting himself in the head – if he had control over anything in his life, it was the way he was going to end it.

Prompto did not allow himself another moment for contemplation before he placed the cold, rigid metal to his temple and pulled the trigger. He was gone, gone, gone.

“Your Highness, there is an important phone call for you,” a knock could be heard on the door as Ignis had announced. Noctis was getting ready for school, perhaps it was Prompto, he thought. It had been four days since he had visited his friend but he couldn’t bring himself to confront him after he had committed an act so unforgivable. “Give me a sec, Ignis.”

He took his time making his way down the stairs to the lounge, he received phone calls frequently, though none of them were ever considered _important_. Noctis’s mind raced through all the possible scenarios that could play out on the phone call yet he had not prepared himself to hear what was spoken to him over the line.

“Your Highness, we believe that a boy who had committed suicide a few days ago was a friend of yours,” there was a long pause on the line as neither of them had spoken. “Your Highness?”

“Yeah, uh, who would that be?” he muttered, nausea overcoming his senses.

“The man in question has been identified as Prompto Argentum,” yet another long pause on the line. “He left a letter which had mentioned you in particular, hence why we are calling, Your Highness.”

“A letter? What’d it say?” he was intrigued now, there was someone who had taken their life and they were identified as Prompto and there was a letter mentioning him at the scene. This couldn’t have been true; it was all wrong.

“You are welcome to come down to the police station, Your Highness. It will be here for you; his parents are yet to collect the evidence.” _Evidence._ That sounded dangerous to Noctis, he couldn’t have evidence, especially not at the police station. If anyone found out about what he had done everything would be over. What if it really _was_ Prompto? No. It couldn’t have been.

“I’ll be there,” he responded before hanging up and informing Ignis of his sudden change of plans. “I will not be going to school today, take me down to the police station.”

The ride to the station was quiet, Ignis did not enquire and Noctis did not care to explain – there was nothing to explain, all of this was a simple misunderstanding. Noctis knew that this couldn’t have been true, surely Prompto couldn’t have done that to himself – he didn’t have it in him and he honestly didn’t really have a reason. They found someone who looked like Prompto and mistakenly identified him as such – Prompto looked rather ordinary, there could be hundreds of civilians who look like him – he would clarify the misunderstanding and visit Prompto right after, apologise for his actions. Prompto would forgive him, everything would be just like old times. His fingers tapping along to the beat of his favourite song playing on the radio, he knew that there was nothing to get worked up over; everything was going to be okay and there was nothing the people in his employ couldn’t fix in case it got to that.

“Will you be requiring my services at the station, Your Highness?” Ignis enquired, gazing up into the rear-view mirror expecting his eyes to meet Noctis’s own but they didn’t. Ignis pushed his glasses further up his nose – emphasising his annoyance at the length of time which the Prince took to answer his question.

“No, there is no need.” He muttered under his breath; eyes fixed on the rain droplets racing down the window. He needed a distraction; he was beginning to feel agitated and he couldn’t allow that.

There was nothing welcoming about the police station, that is all it was, a police station – you would only find yourself there under unfavourable circumstances and Noctis was certain that this circumstance which he had found himself in was less than favourable.

His eyes scanned the room in search for a face that would have matched the voice he had heard over the phone that morning but the challenge had proven to be rather difficult. None of the officers fit the description which he had envisioned in his head during the call and there was no one that even remotely looked like they’d fit that voice.

“Prince Noctis, it is good to see you here so soon, Your Highness,” a middle-aged lady had emerged from an office further inside the premises. He was correct in assuming that the voice couldn’t have possibly been suiting for a man and the lady seemed to fit it like a glove. “Please, follow me.”

Noctis obeyed the lady’s command though he was not very accustomed to following orders given to him by those not in his court. He followed her every step obediently until they had reached a room consisting entirely of cabinets – an evidence room, he thought, that must have been where they would store the victim’s belongings throughout the course of an investigation.

But these things were not Prompto’s belongings and Prompto was not a victim and he was not dead he was very much alive and he was probably in his bed right now because he hadn’t been to school in who-knows how long. Noctis’s mind began to race as his heart rate accelerated, he did not wish to be associated with the death of a random teenager who was too weak-willed to live his life through. He didn’t have time for this, he wasn’t about to be responsible for someone who he couldn’t give the slightest damn about.

How wrong could Noctis have been that day, the gun in the plastic bag, it was that same gun that Prompto had stolen from one of his guards that one day and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t asked why. The markings, the handle, it couldn’t have been coincidental – no one outside of the Citadel held guns like this one. The letter had been gently placed in a plastic bag accompanying the gun in one of the cabinet’s many compartments.

Noctis’s chest began to ache, his breathing became shallow and he knew that this was all real, Prompto’s delicate cursive on the blue lined white parchment. There was no mistaking it – this was Prompto’s letter and beside it was the gun which Prompto had stolen – tears welled over Noctis’s eyes and he could not decipher the writing through the blurriness.

“Does this letter mean anything to you, Your Highness?” the officer asked politely, but Noctis was fighting back tears because he wasn’t going to admit to himself that all of this was really happening.

“No, it doesn’t, I’m sorry.” He whispered, a heaviness on his chest and a lump in his throat, anything above a whisper was sure to guarantee a breakdown.

“I see. Many apologies for asking you to come down here this morning, Your Highness.”

Noctis hadn’t just lost a friend that day, he lost something more, he had lost the person who he loved and who had loved him back. There was nothing that he could do about it and there was no one in his court to fix the unfixable. He couldn’t turn back time and stop himself from hurting Prompto and he couldn’t bring him back to life. There was a pain in his body that no medicine could take away and a sorrow rooting so deep in his mind that no time could heal. Noctis could never express himself for who he truly was and Prompto had never forgiven him.

_December 8 th_

_I’m not sure if that’s the right date. I’m not really sure of anything anymore.  
Living gets difficult when you’re just surviving, when there’s no one there to care whether you’re alive or whether you’re dead.  
That didn’t really matter to me too much until I realised that I didn’t really care whether I was alive or dead either. I haven’t been to school in a while but there’s no one to tell me off for that, isn’t that part of being a teenager anyway? Nagging parents, rebelling against the status quo, or am I just getting all of this wrong? That’s the stuff you see on TV, read in books, magazines – I wouldn’t know._

_Mum, Dad, I’m sorry for what I am about to do. I know you never really wanted me and I know that you did what you thought would be best for the three of us. I forgive you. This is the time for me to make things right and do what I think is best for the both of you._

_There is a pain that just won’t go away and believe me, I’ve tried everything I possibly could to make it go away but it just won’t budge. I think I’ve been alone for too long, it rotted away at my core and instead of making me immune to the pain which loneliness brings it just made it worse._

_Noctis, you gave me a sense of purpose, it might not have been real all along but it worked for me, for a long time. It felt good, feeling like I was wanted, even if I wasn’t really._   
_I really loved you, Noctis. I was so obsessed with what I thought was you but in reality, I was just obsessed with the idea of you. You showed me what chasing false hope could bring and I’m sorry but I can’t forgive you for what you’ve done. You destroyed me; you took the last thing I had of value but I can’t blame you for it. I’ve always been a pushover, someone to use, someone to hurt. You always knew I was weak and that there was nothing special about me – I realise that now._   
_I hope you think about me from time to time, I’m not quite sure of what comes after but if there is something beyond, I hope to meet you again someday._

_I feel like for the first time in my life, I am in control. I am going to choose how I go and I won’t let anyone or anything change that._

_There are a few things which I am sure of: my name is Prompto Argentum, I am seventeen years old, I’ve never known my real parents, I am gay and I love laying on the grass in Duscae watching the clouds move along the sky._

_Goodbye._


End file.
